


Irreducible Mate

by agatharights



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Kidnapping, Multi, barbarian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4037365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agatharights/pseuds/agatharights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm giving in and joining this Barbarian AU because I can't get this out of my head. Wink wonk. Tags and characters to be added as they show up in further chapters, since I'm not really sure what's all gonna be in here yet.</p><p>Hot Rod has found himself the perfect mate- big, strong, hot as the pits, but Ultra Magnus won't be easy to convince. Ultra Magnus would like to tell you exactly how many laws you're breaking by kidnapping and attempting to coerce him into a bond. The rest of the tribe is pretty sure Hot Rod has lost his goddamn mind, trying to get that mountain of a mech to be his mate, when even his own kind find him obnoxious to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irreducible Mate

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [War Bride](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658674) by [Kit_SummerIsle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_SummerIsle/pseuds/Kit_SummerIsle). 



> This damn Barbarian AU is problematic and cliche and I love it to goddamn bits. It clearly needed to be applied to more characters. ALL OF THEM. But I'll start with RodiMagnus to begin with~ Largely borrows characters from IDW, but may involve characters from Prime or Animated as well.
> 
> Also unbeta'd- sorry for any errors, feel free to note them in the comments so I'l fix them!

The desert was hot, dry, dead. Even on a cyber-world, it was a dead place, the silicate sands ever-shifting and whipping into sandstorms, the rare energon sources deep underground or hidden amongst crystal oasis, there were few things that lived in these deserts.

Among them, nomadic tribes in transit.

With that in mind, Ultra Magnus stayed at the lead of the caravan. He would have preferred flying over the desert in a shuttle, it was safer and cleaner, but it simply wasn't doable. Instead here he was, transporting prisoners with a gaggle of Praxians. At least they could be reasonably certain that the prisoners wouldn't try to bolt- none of them were fliers, and in this desert the only Energon and safety to be had was with their captors.

All they had to do was get them to the city. Ultra Magnus considered it easy enough, if time-consuming and unpleasant. The heat was bearable, provided they stopped at midday, and so far they'd only encountered one mild storm and there had been plastic sheeting set up on spring-loaded framed for fast protection while they waited it out.

If anything, it was worse for the prisoners. Attempting to run into the desert to escape justice, pathetic, he thought. The ragged band had been easy to apprehend, hungry and overheating, and now they were compliant (if prone to complaining) as they were herded back towards city walls.

"When are we stopping for energon?" One of them wailed, staggering. The loose sands made for very poor driving, and they'd been forced onto foot for the time being.

"Three cycles." One of the Praxian enforcers bit out, heat shimmering off his doorwings. It was still morning, but there'd been no breeze yet, no reprieve from the sun. "Now, stop asking."

"I need a wash so bad." Another prisoner simpered, and Magnus silently agreed. He could imagine how good it would feel after this. The dust and sand were getting to him quite literally, grinding in his seams and intakes, causing him to expell dust every time he exvented...it was awful. As soon as they were back to civilization he was going to take a stiff brush to every last seam of his armor, a can of compressed air to every vent and fan, and a solvent shower that would last for hours.

Hours, and hours, and hours. This dust was getting deep, deep into his systems the longer it lingered, and it was only the self-control of a monolith that kept him from itching and flaring his plating in an attempt to dislodge it. He wouldn't let any others, much less a group of lowlife thieves, see him so ruffled.

"Sir!" One of the Praxians hurried up to him, pointing to draw his attention to the horizon, where against the white-blue sky there was a rising cloud of darkness.

"...A storm?" Ultra Magnus squinted, trying to zoom and clear his vision.

"It's not big enough. Could be more travellers, or wildlife."

"Hard to believe anything actually lives out here." He lowered his voice. "It's moving towards us?"

"We're not kicking up a lot of sand, but we might still be seen. Espeically if anybody has sensors out here." The Praxian shifted, and Ultra Magnus noticed he was holding his blaster tightly. "It could just be nomads."

"Do they pose any risk?"

"Depends. Sometime they're looking to trade, or just curious. We're not a big group, so they'd probably ignore us when they see we're just passing through." It still didn't feel right, to Magnus, eyeing that cloud again. "We should keep moving."

"Agreed. We'll stop for midday refueling, and continue through the night. We can afford to lose a recharge cycle." He watched as the Praxian moved back to share the information, and kept an optic on that cloud of dust the rest of the day, until it disappeared against the night sky, only slightly closer than it had been.

Perhaps they weren't directly approaching after all, ignoring them. Or not seeing them. Ultra Magnus could hope, after all, even though the falling darkness kept him on edge as they turned up low-light vision. A full moon above offered enough light to make do, and he felt more comfortable without the obviousness of headlights to make them a target.

Still, though, it was impossible to relax. Not with the sand in his armor and thoughts of the dust cloud in the distance.

The relief as the sun began to rise again was short-lived, interrupted by a roar of engines. Two fliers zipped by overhead and circled, high.

"Sir! Should we fire warning shots?" The same Praxian who'd noted the dust cloud asked, as Ultra Magnus looked up, watching cautiously. Two fliers, a helecopter and a jet...their maneuvers weren't aggressive, they must have been there to observe them.

"No. Not unless they get too close, or open fire."

The helecopter swept down, and he could have sworn he heard laughing-cackling from the flier before it pulled back up. The jet kept higher, and they both wheeled away after a few clicks, leaving behind a general sense of unease. So they'd been seen, Ultra Magnus realized it didn't necessarily mean anything. They might have been found uninteresting. Still, he let the Praxians go to high guard and pulled his hammer from subspace, readied over his shoulder.

It was good preparation, but they still were unprepared as they pushed forwards, passing between two dunes...only for the sand to burst away, hidden mechs appearing from besides them with no warning, boxing them in.

The fight was brutal and fast, the nomads armed and ready for them. A shock-net was cast over two of the Praxian guards, jolting them offline immediately, while one of the prisoners made a break for it and found himself skewered on a spear. Ultra Magnus focused on what he could, the mechs who surrounded him, weapons raised.

There was an advantage to being as large as he was, though- few 'bots expected you to be as fast as you truely were, and two of the nomads were sent flying with a single swing of the massive hammer. "Get together! Defensive formation!" He barked, and the remaining guards crowded back in battle, keeping each others' backs.

Magnus was seperated, though, forced back. He slammed the hammer into another Nomad who lept for him, the impact wrenching the mech's arm clear off with a spray of energon. Then there was a shout, and the roar of an engine, before one bot in particular jumped from atop the dune to land before him, grinning wide. Whatever he said, it made the others back away, leaving Magnus and going to helping to corral and strike at the Praxians and prisoners.

Ultra Magnus glared down at the nomad, all red and golden, decorated with...were those flames? He found the mech posturing before him to be insufferable already. If the paintjob and the cocky smile didn't do it, the fact that he clearly intended to take Ultra Magnus down by himself did.

With a flick of his wrist, the mech pulled a weapon from subspace and- wait. Was that...a bow?

A _bow_.

Ultra Magnus may not have showed much surprise outwardly, but he did pause for a moment to consider the sheer absurdity of someone attempting to fight him with a bow, the red mech nocking two arrows from subspace with a fluid motion and saying something challenging. Magnus had never opened the data packages for nomad languages, but he could sense the smugness in whatever had been said.

"This is not a fight you will win." He readied his stance, and darted towards the red mech. If he was a leader, taking him out would be priority- and from there, he would help the others.

That plan did not come to fruition, as instead the others were pushed back, driven and scattered, when ultra Magnus fell, a truely impressive number of shock-arrows embedded in his shoulders, sparking and crackling with charge as his optics dimmed and he surrendered to the darkness of unconciousness. Even as awareness faded, a scroll of text in the margins of his HUD was there- listing off dozens of violations, including the assaulting of an appointed enforcer of the tyrest accord, for the nomads.

It was an entirely unpleasant last sight.


End file.
